Braided Little Girl
by SYuuri
Summary: This was his much needed quality time with Jules. He wouldn't let her see him get all melancholy over something he wasn't sure he was ready to share with her. Sam-centric, slightly S/J.


**Braided Little Girl**

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><p><strong>Disclaimer: Should we do this again?<strong>

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><p>"Maybe tomorrow you could sneak in some Timmy's," Jules frowned, listlessly moving her food around. "This mashed potato could use pinches of salt and the peas… I think the cook must have had them blendered with the potatoes. It's baby food. Are they trying to make us more sick? Like we haven't felt sick enough of being stuck in the hospital bed."<p>

Sam grinned; Jules was poking at her hard boiled egg menacingly with her fork. He was in too much of a good mood to throw back a retort. Jules' critical condition had passed and there's nothing, _nothing_, that could ruin his day.

"If you can complain about the hospital food, I think you really are okay." He replied as he folded the thin blanket he had used to warm himself the night before.

Frustrated, Jules moved a strand of hair that kept falling in front of her face. "The jelly is fine, and the banana tastes like a regular banana, but the rest is not edible." Pouting, she put down her fork and reached for the hair tie around her wrist.

Her slight grimace when she aggravated her still very much fresh wound trying to pull her hair up didn't go unnoticed by him.

Sam was in her bedside in no more than three strides. "Here, let me do you one better."

As expected, Jules protested. "I don't need you to baby me any more than I need those nurses to ask me if I'm feeling alright every ten minutes."

Trying not to roll his eyes, Sam simply grabbed the hair tie from her idle fingers and moved to sit behind her. "Just eat your jelly before one of those nurses sees your food untouched _and_ asks if you're _not_ feeling alright."

Jules grumbled disapprovingly before carefully scooting forward to give him more room. "You should be spending your weekend doing something fun and productive instead of being here, suffocating yourself with disinfectant and getting back ache from sleeping in the couch that has seen better days."

Instead of calling out her obstinacy, Sam began to gently and carefully brush her caramel tresses. The scent of jasmine immediately wafted into his nose. "Someone's in a talkative mood today, isn't she?"

"You complaining?"

"Never."

_Never_, he repeated in the privacy of his mind when the comfortable silence fell upon them. _Not a chance, Jules, not a chance_.

It had been too close a call. He could have easily lost her that day. He could have lost Julianna Callaghan. Would _he_ have survived if faith had spoken differently?

He didn't think so. Not after Matt and his sister.

His sister. Tory.

His youngest sister used to love having her hair pony-tailed and braided; her long golden bouncing hair. Karen, the eldest of them all, had gone to a girl's boarding school five hours away. Sam couldn't say that he missed her; they had never been close at the first place.

Karen had looked relieved when their parents –their _father_- hugged her goodbye. Even at the age of nine, Sam had had enough wits not to ask his mom as to ask why Karen had looked happy than upset being sent away. Not that his mother would ever give him an honest answer.

Then there was Natalie. Natalie, the middle child. Natalie, who _hated_ to be a daughter of some workaholic general. Natalie, who loved playing dress up.

Nat would go into the attic, find some old clothes of their mother's and declare herself to be the Countess Natalie of Abbey Avenue. He had received a good painful smack upside the head when he had made the mistake of laughing at her. The next time she introduced herself as the Lady Braddock of Mississauga, he'd known better.

Not once or twice their mom would find her two darling daughters tangled in dresses that were far too big and long they swept along the floor with every step they took, lips smeared red and pink with the lipstick Nat had managed to get.

Sam still remembered the stern, tight face on Nat's freckled face when their mom had her laying on her stomach; her shorts around her ankles. She was willing herself not to cry, teeth sinking deep into her lower lip and blue eyes shining with unshed tears as her mother swatted her exposed skin. It wasn't a punishment for nurturing her normal, exploring, adventurous side, but simply for having broken their mom's expensive perfume.

Standing next to them, little Tory was asking their mom to stop, crying her lungs out until Nanny Jo had to carry her to her room.

Sam could still hear her pleading cry echoing over his soul.

Go figure, the General Bad-ass had been nowhere to be seen.

That evening, Nat whispered to Sam that their mom was too blinded (and too scared) by him to do anything. His other sister had never been fond of their old man.

It still hadn't changed.

'_Do you want a fancy braid?'_

'_For sure!' It took all of her will power to sit still while Nat combed her hair. 'Can I wear the pink ribbon too, Nat?' _

'_Of course.'_

He had been in the dining room, sitting at his usual place at the table and occasionally throwing glances at his siblings' interaction while trying to concentrate on his homework.

Sam also remembered thinking, while watching his sisters laughing and bantering, that _that_ must have been what normal life looked like. He was grateful that his sisters let him taste a lick of it.

'_Sammy, you want me to braid your hair too?' Nat's teasing voice broke through his train of thoughts. _

'_Shut up, Nat." He scowled and returned to his work. _

It had been math, Sam mused, making sure he didn't pull on Jules' hair as he worked on the tangles. He had only had 3 problems left and he had been thinking about going to the kitchen to see if Nat had snatched his Coke.

Some time the following week, Tory came up to him, staring at him with those big, innocent blue eyes he couldn't say no to. She cheerfully asked him if he would braid her hair since Nanny Jo was picking up Nat at her friend's place.

Sam didn't know whether he had to laugh _at_ her or at her absurd request.

He knew how to braid _ropes_, having been a dedicated boy scout for one full year before his father moved them again. That, and he had also watched Nat and Tory on a handful of occasions.

But still.

He had ended up leaving his comic book – comic books were only allowed whenever his father wasn't home—and sitting behind Tory, trying to recall how to make one single braid.

And then Nat came home.

'_Isn't that a lovely picture." She snickered, leaning against the doorway. _

'_Leave him alone, Tally Ho!' Tory quipped. _

'_I wonder what your friends would say, Sammy,' Nat put her overnight bag on the floor and joined them in the couch. 'Should I take pictures?' _

'_Take it, I don't care,' He muttered, trying to fight the flush creeping up his neck. 'It's not like we're going to stay here for a long time anyway.' _

_That did the trick. Sam ignored her death glare, feeling a tad bit guilty for touching the sore subject. _

_Whatever. _

"Done." Sam said, putting aside the bittersweet memories for the moment being. This was his much needed quality time with Jules. He wouldn't let her see him get all melancholy over something he wasn't sure he was ready to share with her. Unable to resist, he dropped a quick kiss on the back of her neck.

"So you cook better than me, keep your place cleaner than any guys I know, and you can braid too?" Jules chuckled, turning slightly to look at his face. Her eyes twinkled with mischief. "Is there something that you _can't_ do?"

Sam nudged her nose and tried to put on a straight face. "I don't know. Priming drywall?"

Jules burst out laughing; the double meaning of his answer wasn't lost on her, especially when he was wiggling his eyebrows in that silly Sam Braddock way. She pressed her hand against her throbbing side, wincing yet still giggling. "Well, you sure could use some practice, but I think you've been doing pretty well. I approved."

"Yeah, you think so? Maybe after you're out of the hospital, you can teach me some more." He suggested with a smirk. "You surely have been out of practice yourself."

Chuckling, Jules lifted one hand to caress his cheek, feeling the rough stubble of a two-day beard beneath her palm. She tilted her head and was pleased when he leaned down, meeting her halfway and sealing their lips in a sweet kiss.

"I am so glad that you're okay, Jules." Sam muttered, his voice taking a more serious tone. He hated to appear vulnerable in front of her, but fact was fact, and he wouldn't start hiding his feelings behind some invisible wall. Not after her near brush with death. They still had lots to deal with, but right then and there, inside the hospital room, he was just aware of her and her alone.

Jules smiled, grasping his hand tighter. "Thanks for being here, Sam."

"Anytime."

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><p><strong>:) Reviews are loved.<strong>


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